Dukakis Rails Against Death in Hartford’s "Milk Train"

The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore

Written by Tennessee Williams; directed by Michael Wilson; scenic design by Jeff Cowie; costume design by David Woolard; lighting design by Rui Rita; original music and sound design by John Gromada; movement director, Peter Pucci; dialect coach, Gillian Lane-Plescia

Cast in order of speaking: Mrs. Goforth, Olympia Dukakis; Blackie, Maggie Lacey; Chris Flanders, Kevin Anderson; Giulio, Curtis Billings; Simonetta, Amanda Tudor; The Witch of Capri, Judith Roberts

Performances: Now through June 15, Hartford Stage, 50 Church Street, Hartford, CT
Box Office: 860-527-5151 or www.hartfordstage.org 
Next: Elaine Stritch at Liberty, June 24-29, limited six-night engagement

Like the roar of the Mediterranean Sea that is constantly heard pounding against the Amalfi Coast in the Hartford Stage's breathtaking production of Tennessee Williams' The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore, star Olympia Dukakis as the indomitable Flora Goforth relentlessly rages against the dying of the light – and her own magnificent sound and fury. Determined to publish her colorful memoirs before the cancer that is ravaging her body takes permanent hold, Dukakis' Flora bellows stories and barks orders into a speaker-strewn dictation system that blasts her every word, day or night, across the seaside cliffs on which her villa (or is it a fortress?) vigilantly stands. Dukakis' performance suggests that it is not enough to have Flora's recorded memories transcribed into a book for posterity. No. With each pointed memo to herself or others she seems fiercely determined to carve every word into the marble tiles and geological boulders that form her bastion's weathered terrace and walls.

This Milk Train is an unsentimental remembrance of a woman who has lived her life without apologies. She married her first three husbands (two "apes" and an "ostrich") for wealth and position then lost her fourth, a beautiful young poet and the only one she truly loved, in the crash of a sports car she bought for his 25^th birthday. Now refusing to accept that she is on the threshold of death, she continues to exploit her outrageous lust for life by constantly engaging her buttoned up assistant Blackie (Maggie Lacey) in verbal sparring matches and flirting brazenly with the attractive young interloper Chris Flanders (Kevin Anderson) who has doggedly scaled the rugged goat path that serves as the only access to her remote enclave.

Flora is both attracted to and wary of Flanders' charms. His poetic and artistic nature reminds her of her beloved young Alex, but his reputation as an "angel of death" raises her ire. She refuses to succumb to the sick bed comfort he has provided to other aging women of wealth from her circle, insisting that she will not be a part of the milk train that has kept him clothed, fed and sheltered while he ostensibly searches to rekindle his muse. Instead she tries to strip away all pretense of compassion by propositioning him with a clear cut exchange of sexual for monetary favors. Colored by her own cynicism at having "sold" herself into three loveless marriages, Flora sees only the opportunist lurking beneath what she believes is calculated goodness.

In her uncompromising attack on Anderson's affable, enigmatic and unflappable Flanders, Dukakis is positively riveting. When she confronts him about his motives, she is commanding, cold, and unflinchingly unsympathetic. Yet through a biting wit and remarkable strength she somehow keeps Flora likable, even admirable, as she coarsely battles to conceal her quiet desperation and fear of dying beneath a cloak of magnificent disregard for the conventions that bind other women.

Those other more restrained women are represented by Blackie, a very smart and capable young Vassar grad whose husband Charles (not Charlie, as Flora sarcastically points out) died less than a year ago. As played by the multi-layered Lacey, though, the repressed, grieving and pragmatic Blackie becomes a complex enigma whose inner passions and dreams escape to the surface when sparked by the kind attentions bestowed upon her by young Flanders. Lacey's scenes with Dukakis show a barbed wit and wisdom tempered by lock-jawed restraint. Those with Anderson show longing and hope trampled by anger and loss.

With both Blackie and Flanders, Dukakis' Flora is clearly the one in charge. She seems to take puckish glee in pulling their strings and withholding rewards. She drops insults as if she were delivering the daily news and then somehow endears herself by laughing at her own absurdity. With her equally daft friend the Witch of Capri (a delightfully ethereal Judith Roberts) she becomes playfully bitchy, sharing gossip and at one point reveling in a wonderfully funny Japanese Kabuki dance. When deciding that it's time to make love with the sexy young Flanders, she transforms from a tired, wan old woman to a bewigged and bedazzled seductress. Dukakis is both vicious and heartbreaking in one sudden breath.

Anderson walks the fine line between charming grifter and mysterious specter very comfortably. We're never quite sure if he's out to take Flora for her money or genuinely willing to provide loving passage for her into the world beyond. Despite his tender ministrations, however, it's clear that Dukakis' Flora will not go gently into that good night. Her own guilt and regrets regardless of her triumphs make restful acceptance difficult to embrace.

The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore is the final installment in artistic director Michael Wilson's 10-year Tennessee Williams Marathon. With its contemporary feel and timeless tones about making peace with life and facing death, it's a fitting conclusion to a monumental tribute.

PHOTOS by T. Charles Erickson: Olympia Dukakis as Flora Goforth; Kevin Anderson as Chris Flanders and Olympia Dukakis; Maggie Lacey as Blackie and Olympia Dukakis

 

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